Business poems
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Goodbye to Tolerance
© Denise Levertov
It is my brothers, my sisters,
whose blood spurts out and stops
forever
because you choose to believe it is not your business.
Lenton Communion
© Katharine Tynan
Rest in a friend's house, Dear, I pray:
The way is long to Good Friday,
And very chill and grey the way.
Address to Venus
© Lucretius
Delight of Human kind, and Gods above;
Parent of Rome; Propitious Queen of Love;
Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward
© John Donne
Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,
The intelligence that moves, devotion is,
Pyrography
© John Ashbery
Out here on Cottage Grove it matters. The galloping
Wind balks at its shadow. The carriages
Pharaoh and the Sergeant
© Rudyard Kipling
Said England unto Pharaoh, "I must make a man of you,
That will stand upon his feet and play the game;
Benevolent Assimilation
© George Ade
We haven't the appearance, goodness knows,
Of plain commercial men;
Three Women
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
The Author
© Charles Churchill
Accursed the man, whom Fate ordains, in spite,
And cruel parents teach, to read and write!
Of The Nature Of Things: Book V - Part 04 - Formation Of The World
© Lucretius
But in what modes that conflux of first-stuff
Did found the multitudinous universe
White Water
© Eamon Grennan
Yes, the heart aches, but you know or think you know it could be
indigestion after all, the stomach uttering its after-lunch cantata
for clarinet and strings, while blank panic can be just a two-o'clock
shot of the fantods, before the afternoon comes on in toe-shoes
and black leotard, her back a pale gleaming board-game where all
is not lost though the hour is late and you've got light pockets.
The Deserted Village
© Mark van Doren
Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain,
The Scholar-Gipsy
© Matthew Arnold
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill;
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes!
Paradise Lost: Book IV
© Patrick Kavanagh
"Which of those rebel Spirits adjudg'd to Hell
Com'st thou, escap'd thy prison? and, transform'd,
Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait,
Here watching at the head of these that sleep?"
Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
Business And Pleasure.
© Robert Crawford
He'll have his all; and though his heart is great,
Ay, prodigal of kindness, yet is he
A very Shylock in his bargaining.
Those soft, mild eyes of his grow hard as iron
To gauge the too, too little or too much,
When commerce puts his temper to the touch.
The Intellectual
© Ishmael Reed
What should the wars do with these jigging fools?
The man behind the book may not be man,
His own man or the book’s or yet the time’s,
But still be whole, deciding what he can
In praise of politics or German rimes;
